


An Adventurer's Heart

by evil_ontheinside



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Injury, First Meetings, Getting Together, Knives, M/M, Magic, Slow Burn, but also not really?, but it's not graphic, kind of?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28721517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_ontheinside/pseuds/evil_ontheinside
Summary: A shop with everything an adventurer's heart desires.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: SunaOsa





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't expect any regular updates. I'll try to work somewhat consistently on this but I can't promisse anything. It's all planned at least but I might have to add some tags depending on what my brain comes up with. Background Characters and Ships will be added in the notes before every chapter so if you don't want to know who shows up just... skip them?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy ^^
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/EOntheinside?s=08)
> 
> Background Ships: Kita Shinsuke/Ojiro Aran  
> Background Characters: Akagi Michinari, Ginjima Hitoshi, Riseki Heisuke and some more mentioned

The first inconvenience of the day is caused by his key or better the door it should fit in. The door is old and so is the lock. Everything is rusty to some extent and makes unsettling scratching sounds on a good day. On bad days the metal gets stuck and the key doesn’t fit into the hole. The scraping is louder than usual and the key refuses to disappear completely. And what is a key worth that doesn’t fit its lock? Not very much. But no matter how hard he rattles at the door or the metal in his hand it doesn’t move. When he pulls at the key experimentally, it’s stuck.

Rintarou kicks against the sturdy wood of the door but to no one’s surprise, it doesn’t change much. It doesn’t automatically open, the key doesn’t start glowing magically and flies into his hand and no little fairy appears to grant him a wish.

“Is the key stuck again?” When he turns around he sees a familiar face behind him. Akagi holds five leashes in his hand each attached to a different dog and the other positioned on his hip. His signature smile stretches wide across his face as if he’s making fun of his miserable situation, which he probably does. Despite that, Rintarou is happy to see him.

It only takes a nod for Akagi to come over to inspect the door. The dogs start to move around Rintarou now that they stopped moving. One bites into the fabric of his pants, another licks his hand excitedly. The third decides that his feet are the perfect spot to take a nap on, while the youngest runs around him in circles and ties his legs together. The oldest dog stares at him for a moment and even though he doesn’t know much about dogs, Rintarou can feel the disapproval in the look. It seems to have an effect because the young one now runs into the opposite direction until his legs are free again and then sits down to stare at him with his tale swinging around from one side to the other.

Akagi is a few years older than Rintarou and works at their local shelter together with Kyoutani. Every morning they walk the dogs, one round through the whole town and fill the air with happy sniffles. Rintarou is more of a cat person but he doesn’t mind the dogs, it just feels like a pain to walk them every day. When he looks to the right he can see a blond head disappear around a corner and out of his field of view, six dogs follow him only a few steps behind.

A creak forces his attention back to the door, which now stands open with the key safely placed in Akagi’s hand. It will remain a mystery to Rintarou how he always manages to get it out and open the door in the process. _Maybe if he paid attention..._

“Ya should ask Aone to take a look at this. I’m sure he can help and ya wouldn’t have to worry ‘bout breaking the door anymore.” Akagi puts the rusty metal in Rintarou’s outstretched hand and tries to pull the dogs away after kicking the door open a bit wider.

“I know I just don’t want to bother him. He’s still working on the town hall, right?” He puts the key in his pocket and pats Poki, the dog still resting on his shoes and completely ignoring Akagi’s persistent pulls and commands. She raises her head lazily and sticks her tongue out with a happy huff. Maybe he could get along with her.

“Ya say that as if the door isn’t giving yer trouble for five months now.” The look he receives is quite judgmental for someone who refuses to get the hole in his wall repaired and insists that it’s just a ‘convenient shortcut into the kitchen’. Shortly after Akagi looks more thoughtful and even raises a hand to his chin and looks into the air.

“But I guess it’s bad timing right now. They’d be busy with the festival alone but now there’s also a hole in the town hall. That storm last week really was bad luck, huh?” He chuckles but it sounds more relieved than actually amused, which isn’t surprising considering the panic the storm had caused.

Everyone was up and running around when the lightning decided to hit their town hall and set the roof on fire. Only thanks to the heavy rain did they not lose the whole building but now Aone and Watari are fully occupied with fixing the roof, hopefully in time for the festival starting in a few days.

“But make sure to talk to him when all the stress ‘s over. It’s just sad seeing ya struggle with it every morning.” Akagi slaps him on the back, which makes him stumble a little before jogging off, following Kyoutani with a last wave and a wide grin around the corner.

 _It’s not every morning,_ but Rintarou knows it’s useless to shout it after Akagi; though the temptation is there. And the door might be causing trouble for more than five months but that’s something Akagi really doesn’t have to know. He fears he would drag one of the craftsmen away from their work immediately and even the normally calm Aone would give him a stern look if he knew for how long the door actually decided to act up.

He places a wedge in form of a wooden skull in front of the door to keep it in place and moves around the room to open the windows. Lastly, the skylight, which might be the reason Akagi only discovered his door problem five months ago. But falling off the roof at the end of Autumn isn’t exactly how Rintarou imagines a good day to start.

To match the feeling of spring, the sun sends its rays down into his shop and bathes the room in a warm light. The shelves are stocked with items of every size and form. From tiny jars over hand sized artefacts to heavy swords you can find pretty much everything an adventurer’s heart desires- and sometimes the ones of non-adventurers’ too.

He is lucky their town is right between two bigger cities so a lot of people take a break from their travels at the local inn to rest and restock their supplies in their town. Otherwise, business wouldn’t look as good as it does now.

With a yawn, he walks over to the counter, drops his bag on top of the wooden surface and stretches his arms into the air. He doesn’t expect many customers today. The town is busy with preparations and travellers normally plan to arrive at their destination by the end of the week, which usually isn’t their town.

Sadly, that doesn’t mean he can sit around all day and catch up on some sleep. The reason for that are the new items he got just yesterday. Komori never disappoints in quality but this time the quantity wasn’t bad either. Sure, it’s only some second grade artefacts and some dull pieces of armour that he still has to polish before he can put them on display but it was a miracle that Komori even managed to carry them all the way to his shop. That must have been the reason he brought Sakusa along. Maybe their town was close to one of his destinations, maybe he owed his cousin a favour. Whatever it was, Rintarou can’t complain.

While the sun travels over the sky, Rintarou can be seen polishing armour and organizing the new items. He assesses their prices and tries to find places to put them in the limited space. The storage space decreased steadily over the years with broken shelves that didn’t get replaced and a constant growth in the variety of items. The birds chirp outside the windows, some even find their way inside and decide to sing him songs while he works away.

During lunch time, Ginjima comes over. He normally offers fighting lessons together with Yahaba, but often decides to spend his break time in Rintarou’s shop and even helps out sometimes. Their lessons are quite popular with passing soldiers or travellers that plan to join tournaments or want to fight monsters. Some of the residents of their little town use the lessons as well and the two even offer exercises for the older citizens.

Right now, Ginjima sits on one of the antique chairs Rintarou bought from one of the merchants that sometimes visit their town, with no respect for the old materials and the money it cost him.

“If you break it, you pay for it.” The fruit jelly in his bowl sloshes around at the sudden motion as he points at Ginjima with his spoon, who only leans back a bit more, causing the wood to creek dangerously. “Oh come on. How much can this thing be worth? It’s an old chair.” Ginjima grins widely and balances his own food on his knee. He probably bought it from the ‘North’s Tail’ because it looks nice and not like he scratched it from the floor into his bowl.

“I made a good deal because the guy just wanted to get rid of it and only paid 3000 coins but it’s actually worth around 5000.” Ginjima starts coughing violently, while Rintarou leans back with a pleased smile. He didn’t spend a whole weekend cleaning that thing to lose it to Ginjima’s fat ass.

“Please tell me yer talking ‘bout silver.” He hurriedly stands up to sit on the counter instead when Rintarou only raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I thought yer sellin’ adventure stuff and not antiques! Is there even someone to buy that thing?” He takes his time, eats another spoon of jelly while staring into Ginjima’s eyes before he finally answers. “I’m not letting a chance like that slide. Besides, Komori found someone in the city who might be interested and wants to stop by in a few weeks.”

Ginjima stares at the chair for a moment, hopefully imagining what a loss that big would do to his wallet and living situation before his eyes wander to another item.

“What’s that?” He points at a goblet on the display in the middle of the room with the more expensive items. Or magical ones, whatever you want to believe. It’s silver and casts specks of light on the walls when the rays of the sun hit it through the skylight. Blue little gems decorate the rim, supposedly embedded with magic. Intricate patterns run over the surface and all the way down the handle like little drops of water.

“A goblet. It’s supposed to give whoever drinks out of it luck in battle. Whatever that means.” Ginjima stares at it in wonder but furrows his brows at Rintarou’s explanation. “I still don’t get why ya sell the stuff when ya don’t even believe that it actually works.” He only shrugs and looks at the goblet as well.

It does look somewhat magical. The patterns look almost mystical, like an ancient language has been written on it with the silver. The gems glow in the dark, which he found out accompanied by a shock when they suddenly started to illuminate the darkness of the shop. Maybe it is a magical artefact. Maybe it’s a normal goblet that just looks nice.

“It doesn’t matter if I believe that it’s magical. When someone wants to believe it and buys it that’s not my problem. Sometimes believing that it works is enough to have an effect.” When he looks back at Ginjima he looks at him with wide eyes, somehow still shining with wonder. “Didn’t thought ya were such a poetic guy.” Rintarou rolls his eyes with an amused huff while Ginjima starts laughing.

They continue to eat in silence until their food is consumed and Rintarou follows Ginjima to the door. He’s already out of the shop when his eyes land on the shelf behind the counter, stacked with potions and remedies for every wound and mild illness Rintarou has ever encountered. “Wait, don’t yer potions work with magic too?” Rintarou looks at him with what he hopes is the most disgusted face he ever made and slams the door shut, close to Ginjima’s face. “It’s not magic they actually work!” He hears Ginjima snicker outside before he shouts his goodbye’s through the open window and disappears in the direction of the glade he and Yahaba sometimes use for exercise.

After opening the door with a lot of effort and using the wood skull to prevent it from falling shut on its own and not because of his dramatic acts, Rintarou drops back onto the chair behind the counter and stares at the ceiling.

Magic, huh?

He closes his eyes and tries to remember the time he still believed in all of that. In mythical creatures and magical objects just like that goblet only a few steps away. Why did he stop believing in it? When he came up empty handed after searching for hours just to see a fairy? When he took an amulet that promised to help with finding the thing someone most desires just to end up in a forest with no idea how to get back home?

Maybe you need certain powers for the magic to work, maybe the contact with too much magic lessens its power, maybe it just doesn’t exist. At some point he stopped caring which option it was.

When he opens his eyes again, a speck of light on the ceiling gets his attention. The green light dances across the dirty paint above his head. He never saw it before.

It must be something reflected by the sun. Curious Rintarou stands up to look for the cause of the unusual reflection.

He stops in front of one of the shelves and moves his hand around with his eyes on the speck of green. When it vanishes for a second, he moves his hand back until it disappears again, this time for a moment longer. It takes him a few more seconds until the light stays hidden behind his palm.

His eyes fall on an amulet with a green stone in the middle. It looks like a simple jade, light green, pretty but nothing special. At closer inspection though, thin white lines dance across the surface. Or is it underneath it? To take a closer look at it, he takes it in both of his hands to hold it in front of his face.

He remembers buying it. The stone had been darker back then, a lot less impressive than now. Maybe it’s the light? Are there spells that get activated by light? Some that only unfold their powers when exposed to the rays of the sun? He can’t take his eyes off the dancing lines moving on their own in wild patterns.

What did the merchant say about it? Did he mention any magical power that is supposed to reside in the stone? But if he had, why is the amulet here and not on the display with the other magical items? Did he misplace it? Normally, he couldn’t care less where he puts the new items but not when they’re supposed to be magical. Right?

The door opens in a swift motion, making Rintarou flinch enough to nearly drop the amulet in his hands. It takes a great effort to not glare at whoever just entered his shop. He looks at the stone in his hands one more time before he puts it into the pocket of his jacket.

“Stealin’ isn’t very nice, ya know?” Rintarou rolls his eyes before he turns around to face the new customer.

He already prepares a passive aggressive answer but it gets stuck in his throat when he looks at him. It’s a wonder he fit through the door with those broad shoulders of his and his arms look like he can easily lift some monsters over his head and throw them off the next cliff. His grey hair looks a bit sweaty as it sticks to his forehead, his eyes are brown mixed with the same colour of his hair, maybe from a curse? Maybe just dyed with those flowers they sell in the city. His jaw is sharp but his cheeks look soft, a little rounded. Maybe to make him look more innocent in the face of trouble? Probably won’t work with those arms.

He is dressed in casual clothes. A loose shirt and tight pants but not tight enough to hinder his movement. He carries a small backpack with a few seams hanging loosely in the air. He has a knife strapped to his belt and something looking like a spear head peeks out of the backpack though it’s too short to be a full sized spear. Maybe it broke off and he carries it around for the memories? Maybe he prefers to fight with low range weapons?

“Don’t ya want to defend yerself or somethin’?” Ah. And apparently he can’t mind his own business.

Rintarou raises an eyebrow and walks behind the counter to lean against it. From further away he doesn’t look that special. He didn’t from up close either. Just your everyday adventurer. He doesn’t even remember what caught him off guard earlier.

“Do you need anything or what did you come here for?” This time the traveller raises an eyebrow before eying some of the items on the shelves. He looks at the more basic things: Knives, jars and blankets. His eyes briefly wander over the artefacts in the middle, stopping shortly at the potions behind Rintarou before he comes over and stands in front of the counter.

“I need quite specific things. Is the owner ‘round?” Rintarou’s fingers tap on the wooden surface all on their own while he tries not to roll his eyes. It’s not the first time someone asks for the owner for ‘special’ items but it doesn’t stop to annoy him every time. “Always.” The traveller frowns and looks around. He eyes the door behind the counter, maybe tries to hear some sound confirming that someone else is in the shop but then simply stares at Rintarou.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” With a smile on his face, he props his head up on his palm after resting his elbow on the counter. “It just means that he’s always here. Every day, seven days a week, from morning until evening.” The traveller’s face lights up at the news but the frown returns shortly after. “What are ya doing here then? Isn’t this shop small enough for one person?”

Rintarou bites his tongue to not say something he would later regret. For example ‘Do you think all those backpacks make themselves?’ or ‘Does making potions look like a two-minute thing to you?’ or, his favourite ‘You’re right, I’m sure a traveller knows more about running a business then the actual owner’.

“Yes,” he says instead, ignoring the first part of his question, “he is the only one working here.” Rintarou can practically see the gears turn in the traveller’s head until he points at him. Rude.

“Ya can’t be the owner! Yer way too young for that!” It gets harder to keep the comments at bay the longer the man occupies space in his shop but he only takes a deep breath and straightens up again. He realises that he’s taller than the traveller but somehow still feels smaller with all those muscles right in front of him. He feels like a child and maybe he can see where the stranger is coming from, when the man in front of him actually looks like an adult, even though they can’t be far apart in age.

“Sure I am. Do you want to buy something now or…?” The man shakes his head with a frown but seems to come to terms with his fate. Maybe he now wants to test Rintarou, find out if he actually knows what he’s talking about. Rintarou couldn’t care less about that. Maybe he should but most travellers don’t really have a choice when it comes to stocking up their supplies around here, so reputation isn’t that important.

The traveller places a list in front of him with a few items. Well, maybe some of them would need a specialist but who claims to be a shop for adventurers and doesn’t have at least thirty smoke bombs in stock? And sleeping pills? Those things are unreliable, keep you asleep for too long or too deep and make sleeping in the wild more dangerous than it has to be. An eight hour sleep potion paired with a danger sensing stone are way more reliable.

“I went to the clinic for some bandages and all that but that guy just told me to go here. Do ya have what I need?” Rintarou only huffs and turns around to search the shelf for the things he needs. He notes that he doesn’t have enough pain-relieving potion but at least it doesn’t take too long to make.

Just some of the herbs and flowers he stores in a drawer under the counter mixed together with some water and boiled over a hot flame for a few minutes and it’s done. The traveller watches with attentive eyes as Rintarou makes his way over to the smoke bombs and scoops some of them in his arms to then dumb then on the counter.

The problem is, he doesn’t get that far. He can only blame Ginjima for bumping into the rack with the backpacks. Again. One of them fell to the ground in the process and is now Rintarou’s demise as he trips with his hands full of fragile bombs he really doesn’t want to set off in the middle of his shop.

Before he actually hits the ground though, he feels two strong hands grab his shoulders and a chest make contact with his face. He scrambles up right again and tries to ignore the smirk on the traveller’s face and the heat rising to his cheeks.

Next time Ginjima need something he’s just going to charge him more than it actually costs-

But why wait for Ginjima who knows all his prices?

He checks on the potion on the counter, swirls it around in the bottle and holds it into the light just in time to see the colour shift from a faint yellow to a strong orange. Some size appropriate bottles are quickly filled and put to the rest of the pile. He sighs quietly when he realises that he has to make a lot more as soon as the stranger leaves in case someone else needs it. Shirabu always gets grumpy when he doesn’t have any potion in stock even though he could simply make it himself.

The traveller had stopped watching him and eyes the artefacts with interest while Rintarou tries to find the exact type of dagger the other is looking for. It’s a detailed description of what a good dagger should have to offer but he assumes it’s not the traveller who wrote it if the ‘fuck off tsumu’ scribbled under the lengthy note is anything to go by.

Something jingles behind him while he tries to estimate the weight of the dagger and turns around to see the Traveller with a necklace in his hands. It’s not one of the magical ones, just an ordinary thing. Pretty but not of much use in general. The pendant resembles a fox and Rintarou can imagine the relief on Ojiro’s face when he doesn’t have to do mental acrobatics to decide if he wants to buy it for Kita or better look for something else.

The stranger looks over to him and smiles apologetically as if making a little noise is a crime. “You want to buy it?” Rintarou goes back to examining the dagger but keeps an eye on the man. The dagger should be good enough. It’s not every day that someone makes such specific requests for a simple dagger so it does intrigue him a little. Not enough to actually talk to this ‘tsumu’ but he wouldn’t say no to a short story. Maybe they lost the old dagger and were really attached to it. Maybe it was the only weapon they managed to decently fight with. Maybe they just have a very specific taste.

The stranger hums non committedly but doesn’t take his eyes off the silver fox dangling in the air. Rintarou places the dagger next to the smoke bombs and looks at the man for a moment. Does he have someone to give it to? One of his parents? A sibling? A friend? A partner? He could also buy it for himself but jewellery without a use is normally ignored by adventurers.

A pile of items sits on the counter when Rintarou is done with gathering everything. The shop isn’t big and it’s not a wide variety but the traveller sure needs a lot of things. Does he travel in a group with other people? All this would easily be enough for a group of four but some people just like to be prepared.

The man had put the necklace back to the others and joined him at the counter to look at everything and check his list. He raises an eyebrow at the sleeping potion and the danger-stones but shrugs after Rintarou’s explanation with the words that ‘he would try it out’. He doesn’t have much of a choice, Rintarou doesn’t sell sleeping pills anyway.

“I could give ya-“

“I don’t negotiate my prices.”

The traveller stops in the middle of his sentence, his mouth still open before he raises his hands in defence. “Sorry I’m kinda used to haggle a little.” Without much of a reaction, Rintarou starts to calculate the price. If he charges a little more for the potions and the smoke bombs, well the other doesn’t have to know.

While he scribbles numbers on a piece of paper, he can feel the stranger’s eyes on him. He’s close to saying something when the traveller is faster and opens his mouth first. “Before I forget it, do ya have flowers?” Rintarou stops in his movement, a drop of ink falls from the pen and stains the paper underneath close to the final amount. “I’m not a flower shop. Go to Yuji for that. His flower shop is near the town square.”

He does have flowers of course but they are not for simple decoration purposes. They are actually useful and shouldn’t be wasted by some random guy who decided to annoy him on this otherwise ordinary day.

“Ah yeah. Just wanted to apologise to those guys runnin’ the inn. My brother can be annoying.” _Must run in the family_ , is what Rintarou thinks but doesn’t say and instead turns the paper around to let the stranger see what he owes him now. His eyes widen for a second before he pulls out a bag with clinking coins in it. He drops the exact amount on the counter without considering the extra effort Rintarou had to go through and starts putting everything in his bag.

He even takes his time to repack some things and Rintarou is really close to just kick him out. Not many customers stay beyond the simple paying process and they definitely don’t stop one last time to take another look at the necklace before walking out the door with a quick nod.

With a probably too loud and too dramatic sigh, Rintarou drops his head on the counter only to jolt upwards again when the door swings open. It’s only Riseki who kicks it open with his hands full of flowers and trips a little over the wooden skull.

“Hey Suna-san! I’m here to drop off the flowers you asked for.” Rintarou tilts his head so his chin rests on the wooden surface to look at Riseki and waves with his hands to one side of the counter. “I thought I told you to call me Rintarou. Everyone does, it’s weird when you don’t.” The younger one smiles sheepishly as if calling him Suna is an irreversible habit after only three weeks.

With another sigh Rintarou pushes himself up to walk over to the pile of flowers and herbs scattered all over the place.

“Did you find anything new today?” he asks while starting to sort the plants into different piles. Having Riseki around really does make things a lot easier. The boy came to their town a few weeks ago to study the wildlife in their area and works at the bar at night. He doesn’t have to but he feels bad to just stay with Kawanishi without paying him back somehow. They first met in the forest when Rintarou was gathering herbs for his potions and was unable to say no when Riseki asked him to show him around the forest with his excited puppy eyes.

“I think so but I’m not sure yet. I couldn’t get close enough to see if it looks different from the rest of the beavers but I saw it eat something none of the others ate before.” Rintarou couldn’t care less about new discovered species in their local forest but Riseki made it sound so exciting that he found himself at least a little interested.

“Well good luck then, I guess. And thanks for this stuff,” he waves his hand in a circle over the pile of plants and nods at Riseki who gives him a smile before making his way back to the door.

“Bye Rintarou-san!” The door falls shut behind him with a bang and Rintarou can hear the sharp inhale of breath through the window before he sees Riseki run off in the direction of the restaurant, which also functions as a bar at night.

The rest of his day consists of plant sorting and heavy sighs while venting about the weird stranger to all the voices in his head. Normally they are the ones annoying him with their endless shouts and worries but sometimes you have to get back at them.

At the end of the day when he gathered all his stuff and left the shop in a condition good enough for his own probably too low standards, he closes the door and locks it without any problems. The key moves in and out smoothly as if it were new and it makes Rintarou squint suspiciously. In the end he lets it go and just makes his way home.

The fresh wind smells of spring as he walks over the town square, some people still working on booths for the upcoming festival. Some kind of celebration for spring he never really cared about, especially appreciated by some families from the city that come here just to enjoy a few quiet days. That those days are way louder than any normal day in their town doesn’t seem to bother them.

He waves at Ojiro and Kita, who seem to have just finished their own day of work and hand the restaurant key over to Kawanishi, who has Riseki in tow. The old couple waves back at him with their wrinkled skin and grey hair and it reminds Rintarou of his own grandparent that should be somewhere enjoying their retirement. Maybe he should pay them a visit someday. 

He nods to Aone holding the ladder for Watari who seems to make some last adjustments on the roof of the town hall and smiles faintly at Oomimi observing the whole process.

The sun sinks behind a hill in the distance when he arrives at the little house he calls his own at the other end of the town. Some people questioned his unnecessarily long way to work and back but he actually likes it. Staying in his shop nearly all day long can feel like he is in his own world. And even though it’s something he actually likes about his job, feeling as if he is far away from the mundane everyday life and in his own little world full of adventure with all the magical items it would bring with it, it makes him feel separated from the rest of the town.

In the beginning, the first weeks after he took charge of the shop he even stayed there overnight until Ginjima dragged him out to get a drink. It’s nice seeing everyone who lives in the town, all the people he considers his friends at least to some extent, others even as a part of his family.

After shutting the door, he drops face first on his bed positioned right next to the entrance. It might not be the best choice aesthetic wise but it’s practical so he ignores every complaint that reaches him, mainly from Ginjima.

After a few minutes of nothingness, he sits up to get rid of his jacket only to feel something in the pocket.

When he looks at it, the white lines still dance across the stone and illuminate the darkness of his home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going to the market isn't as uneventful as Rintarou expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2, it took some time but here it is. Have fun ^^  
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/EOntheinside?s=08)
> 
> CW: Knives, little bit of blood (both added to the tags), poisonous plant
> 
> Background ships: Kita Shinsuke/Ojiro Aran, Ennoshita Chikara/Futakuchi Kenji, (implied) Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou  
> Background Character: Miya Atsumu, a few more mentioned or with short appearances sometimes even a line (or eye contact)

With the sun shining through the skylight, it’s warmer than it should be for the end of April. He imagines the feeling of sweat running down his face but when tries to wipe it away his hand comes back dry. He would do something about it but the windows and the door are closed for a reason. The wind is howling outside, breezing around the houses, over the wide meadow and through the nearby forest. If Rintarou were to open a window only for a split second, he’d risk the plants carefully placed on the counter to dry. They’d fly all around the room, into every last corner, under every surface until it’s impossible to find them all again.

The sky is clear for the most part and the few specks of white above his head aren’t thick enough to block out the sun for more than a second. As nice as it is to have light from above and a way to get inside when the door doesn’t work with him yet again, right now he’d prefer the window to be gone.

The flickering flames not far away obviously don’t do much against the heat either. The steam rising up from the bottles filled with water, powders and plants increases the humidity and makes the air feel heavy. At least it smells like flowers.

His fingers tap impatiently on the counter to the rhythm of a song one of the bards that visits their town regularly sings often. He stops by every now and then and stays suspiciously close to the clinic. At the same time, Shirabu conveniently decides to spend his breaks outside and keeps the window to his little office open. When asked about it though he either goes quiet or starts a defensive lecture about the positive effects of fresh air, leaving you to ponder over every unhealthy decision you ever made in your life.

The bard in question only smiles when interrogated before leaving with some half assed excuse which is still too believable to call him out for. It’s quite frustrating.

Rintarou moves his tapping hand a little to the left where it meets a cool smooth stone instead of the rough wood of the counter. The stone glows a little brighter with every tap and the lines inside move a bit faster than before.

Even after two months, the stone remains a mystery. He searched through all his books and documents but any note about the purchase is gone. He doesn’t know how or when it got lost but it’s definitely not anywhere in his house or the shop after he searched every single spot and corner. He still has a vague memory of buying it but whatever he does, the face of the merchant is blurry or a swirl of different colours. Whenever he thinks about them for too long his head begins to throb and if that isn’t suspicious then Rintarou is a witch - which he isn’t, no matter how often Futakuchi calls him one.

After his fruitless search he looked through all his books to find something about a glowing jade green gem with white lines dancing around in it but even here he comes up empty. Not a single entry in any of them, even the old ones his grandparents bought when they were still young don’t have a single entry about it.

It drives him a little insane that even after he put so much work into it, he still knows nothing about the stone. But, even though he hates to admit it, this stone feels somewhat magical. The way it glows and  _ feels _ whenever he holds it in his hands, like he can’t put it away even if his life depends on it - it just feels different from everything he ever experienced before.

Sometimes the stone feels cold like snow on an icy winter day, other times it’s like it was held into an open flame for hours and on other days Rintarou can’t feel a difference when his fingers meet the smooth surface the same temperature as his skin. He tried to look for a pattern but until now it seems to be completely random.

The lines don’t give a clue about the stone or the powers it might hold either. They don’t draw symbols or recurring patterns or letters, they don’t fuse together but move past each other with barely any space between them nearly touching.

One time, Rintarou imagined a soft melody coming from the stone and had been dragged to Narita after Kosaku caught him holding the stone to his ear with a desperate expression on his face, by Kosaku’s words. To Kosaku’s chagrin, only Shirabu had been in the clinic and just raised an eyebrow at his worried description. “You act as if that’s the weirdest thing we caught him doing.” Then he shooed them away.

The next night he heard the tune again. The stone was still in the pocket of his jacket where its glow wouldn’t keep him up all night. The melody was light, like a feather dancing on a gentle breeze or waves slowly moving back and forth against the shore. It had something melancholic, like the sounds of a childhood home, of people - familiar yet far away.

Instead of standing up to hold the stone to his ear again, he closed his eyes and hid his head under his pillow. It must’ve been a bard’s tune carried to his home through the wind. Nothing more.

The bubbling of water grows louder with each second and out of the corner of his eye, Rintarou can see a slight change of colour. A subtle shift from grass to moss. The stone binds his eyes to its faint glow for a moment longer before he can tear them away and move to the potions. The flames are put out quickly and the potions transferred into their respective bottles. Even though he tries his best to make the labels readable, writing on a curved surface has never been easy for him. He should stop gluing the tag to the bottle beforehand. He probably never will.

He squints at the bottle and confirms, he can’t even read it himself. With a sigh he puts it on the shelf to the rest of its kind and turns it around until his horrible handwriting isn’t laughing in his face anymore. In his head, he apologises to whoever is going to buy this potion but he doesn’t care enough to rewrite it.

Now that that’s done, he can move on to the next part. He looks at the plants still drying on the counter and contemplates to put them away but leaves them be in the end. He will regret it later, he knows that but he doesn’t feel like running around in the woods again to get new ones should they lose their effectiveness. Better to face the consequences to his future self .

His jacket is still draped over one of the antique chairs. He’s still waiting for whoever Komori had promised him to buy them. At least they make nice coat racks. Expensive coat racks. Rintarou shrugs on his jacket and shoulders his bag before rummaging through a cabinet under the counter. After a few seconds he holds the sign triumphantly into the air. With a piece of chalk, he tries to write as legible as possible while walking to the door.  _ Back in about two hours _ . That will do.

He should probably write an actual time on it but he feels like keeping himself an opening. Did he write this an hour ago? Right now? In three hours? Whoever comes by wouldn’t know and every outcome would be in his favour. Probably.

One hand already on the door knob and the chalk discarded on a random shelf, he looks back to the counter. His eyes roam over the shelves, the amulet, the plants, the empty bottles, the amulet. His gaze lingers while he chews on the inside of his right cheek.

It’s so easy. Just walk out and leave it behind. There’s no need to take it with him. It’s just a stone, a shiny one, but nothing more.

_ Are you sure about that? _

With five long strides he’s back at the counter and drops the glowing stone in his pocket. He can’t help but roll his eyes. Still, he doesn’t move to put it back.

Back at the door he opens it in one swift motion and steps outside quickly. A gust of wind ruffles his hair, or better throws it from one side to the other as if it couldn’t decide which way it likes it more. In his hurry to close the door, he lets go of the handle and winces at the loud bang when it falls shut behind him.

He can already imagine it. The plants scattered throughout the room, some of the potions knocked off the shelves, a few artefacts shattered on the ground. He really doesn’t want to look. But better now than later coming back to a mess when he already forgot about it.

As he takes the few steps to the nearest window he sighs already. Cleaning up is going to be a pain. For the extra dramatics, he holds a hand over his eyes and stands in front of the window. A quick peek and then he’s going to run. No need to get hung up on something he can’t change anyway.

The quick peek turns into a disbelieving stare when he finds everything still in order just how he left it a few seconds ago. Even the plants don’t look like they moved at all. “Huh.” It takes him a while, mind completely focused on the lack of chaos in his shop, but finally he gets his thoughts back on track.

Market.

After hanging the sign on a nail in the door he starts his journey. The walk to the town square isn’t long at least if you aren’t Rintarou, who always manages to make the way longer than necessary. He gets lost in thought and somehow ends up somewhere he doesn’t want to be. It wouldn’t be the first time he found himself in the middle of the woods in a glade he had never seen before.

Soon he finds himself distracted by the jingling of a wind chime in front of Watari’s house. It gets tossed around in the harsh gusts of wind but somehow a pleasant melody fills the air. It’s odd and Rintarou pauses, eyes fixed on the moving metal tubes. From the looks of it, there shouldn’t be anything but a mess of different notes chaotically mixed together but somehow the notes harmonise with each other as if the wind decided to play a peaceful tune.

A leaf nearly hits his face with the next gust of wind but it only flashes by in front of his eyes before it hits Watari’s door. At least it gets Rintarou out of his thoughts so he continues on his way.

The sun shines down mercilessly and warms his skin through his dark layers of clothes but now the breeze ends his suffering and he can finally enjoy the white splotches that paint little figures on the blue canvas above him, changing their shape within the blink of an eye. A rabbit, an umbrella and with a lot of imagination even a pigeon.

“Don’t run into the sign, Rintarou!” He whips his head around in the direction of the loud voice coming from the left and comes to an abrupt stop. Outside of Terushima’s flower shop stands Ojiro with a bouquet in one hand, a mixture of white and light blue flowers Rintarou can’t identify from the distance, and points at something in front of him with the other. When Rintarou follows the direction of his finger, he sees the sign hanging low from the roof of the inn, swinging wildly in the wind.

He sends a grin back to the old man who tries his best to shield the fragile flowers with his body. They’re without a doubt a gift for Kita, most likely his favourite flowers. Maybe they have some anniversary today. Rintarou ducks under the sign and looks through the window inside the inn.

At the reception, he can see Futakuchi in deep conversation with a guest. From the looks of it, it’s one of the merchants setting up shop in their town square for the week. Futakuchi’s frown tells Rintarou more than he needs to know about how well the talk is going and can’t help but smirk when the other’s eyes land on him. His eyes scream murder when he catches Rintarou over the shoulder of the guest.

When a movement by the door catches his attention, his eyes meet Ennoshita’s, who enters the room and gives him a knowing look but also an amused smile before he focuses on the problematic guest. Futakuchi sends him one last glare that somehow morphs into a less murderous grin when Rintarou starts walking again.

A mumble of voices fills the air and grows louder with every step that brings him closer to the town square. Some girl shouts for her parents with excitement filling her tone, a man complains about high prices and someone screams about their excellent products.

The wind carries a variety of smells through their town. Rintarou can make out some foods he tried before, some he didn’t. He recognises flowers and herbs he uses regularly and others he never encountered before. Perhaps it’s a flower he can use for some potions. A flower from far away, another country maybe, that he first has to try out in different combinations to learn its effects.

With a fond smile he remembers the times he experimented with his grandmother. The whole desk covered in bottles filled with different flowers, herbs and powders, slowly simmering over tiny flames. They wrote down every change of colour, every faint hiss. Whole books were dedicated to one plant alone, hundreds of pages of notes and illustrations still somewhere in the shop or his home. Maybe he should look for them.

In front of him the path between the houses opens up to show the town square. From the festival only two months ago is not a trace left and a few stalls fill the space. A few of the vendors went through the trouble of building little houses with a roof and a counter, most of the others only brought a blanket to put their wares on display. Some people sell food from the nearby cities, competing over the longer queue of customers while completely unaware that most of them already sit in the ‘North’s tail’ and enjoy the good food.

The variety of products seems to have no end as he walks past decorations, foods, potions and even furniture. He doesn’t want to imagine the trouble the two people manning the stall went through to get all of that into their town. He feels tired just by thinking about it.

He walks around the place and talks to some of the regular vendors. He buys the herbs he can’t find in their forest from Nekomata, the old man is a regular in their town for as long as Rintarou can remember. He remembers how his grandfather joked around and threatened to trade Rintarou for a batch of Crystal Flowers if he didn’t stop running off. Considering that Crystal Flowers are rather rare, Rintarou was more pleased than scared but still stopped to run all over the place and annoy everyone around him.

He buys some materials from a guy he has never seen before. Leather and cloth, something he can make more backpacks with and even gets a discount when he tells the man he runs the adventurer shop in town. Something about his nephew buying new equipment from him a few months ago.

He visits Kinoshita where he set up shop near the well and sells some of the products from the farm. It’s either him or Ohira who handle the selling, Yamagata can’t be trusted with money, he would probably lose it the second it’s handed to him.

For no particular reason he stops in front of a young man with greenish hair and a freckled face. On the blanket around him lie a number of pottery items from vases over plates to simple figurines. They are painted in colourful patterns and somehow catch Rintarou’s interest. He doesn’t even need any of it, it just looks nice and he can’t really explain why.

He crouches down to look at a little statue of a fox, a smirk on its face and eyes in crescents, fur painted in different shades of blue and green. The details are incredible and from the looks of it, the man selling it is proud of his work too, if his smile is anything to go by.

“Are you interested? I made it myself only two weeks ago.” His voice is soft when he speaks and he wrings his hands in front of him in a nervous gesture. Rintarou eyes the figure in his hands again and imagines it somewhere in his home. He frowns when he doesn’t find a suitable place but soon the image of the shop comes to mind along with that empty spot near the register that is in desperate need of some decoration.

“It’s good work.” He nods along his words and the man in front of him perks up a little, standing a bit taller and prouder than before. “It’s one of my best pieces, I think.” Rintarou hums in thought and brushes over the closed eyes of the fox in his hands.

He wants to ask for a price but before he can open his mouth, a sudden weight on his back makes him stumble forward and the distinct sound of shattering pottery fills the air. He opens his eyes, which he closed instinctively, to see that a vase fell over on the cobbled ground. The colourful shards glimmer slightly in the sunlight and some of the smaller pieces get carried away by the wind.

Rintarou turns around to glare at whoever pushed him so suddenly but no one’s there. Sure, a few people stare in their direction, probably alarmed at the sound of shattering potter but Rintarou can’t see a suspicious person making their way through the crowd to escape from responsibility. Nothing looks out of the ordinary as if it was the wind who decided to push him forward.

He turns back around, still a scowl on his face but it disappears immediately when he sees the merchant’s face. The initial shock morphed into a sad expression with slumped shoulders and his head hanging low. Rintarou has to suppress a sigh as he rummages through his bag to find the pouch with coins.

“How much is the vase, I’m going to pay for it.” The man looks at him in surprise before slight panic takes over his face and he starts gesturing wildly with his arms as if he’s drowning in the middle of the ocean.

“What? No! That wasn’t your fault, you got pushed. Don’t worry this happens all the time.” He chuckles lightly as if remembering another incident like this one. It doesn’t do much to sooth Rintarou’s guilt that came as soon as he saw the man’s sad face. Nothing actually.

“I will still pay for it. And I’ll take the fox too.” He holds out the figure still in his hand, careful not to take a step in the wrong direction or to let the fox meet up with the shards on the ground.

His efforts nearly vanish like a leaf falling into a rapid stream when a hand grabs his shoulder and a breathy voice breathes into his ear. “Found you.” He jumps and fumbles with the fox in his hands when it bounces off his fingers, colourful shards in blue and green scattered across the floor flash before his eyes.

He scowls when he turns around and a familiar man stares right back at him. He’s so close Rintarou can feel the breath blow across his face, can see the grey specs clearly against the brown of his eyes, the dark strands that are hidden behind grey ones and a thin line cutting across his cheek with blood still sticking to one end. Instinctively, he takes a step back and nearly knocks over one of the pots to his feet. He glares at the traveller that had left his mind after the door fell shut behind him two months ago.

Without acknowledging his existence any further, Rintarou turns back to the merchant and finally pulls out the pouch with coins. The man’s eyes flicker between him and the traveller, a look of uncertainty on his face, like he’s asking himself if he’s intruding a reunion of some sorts. And maybe it is a reunion of some kind but Rintarou has to hold back from rolling his eyes, he doesn’t want to make the man even more uncomfortable.

With a quick movement of his hand, he drops a few coins in the merchant’s hands, hoping it’s enough to pay for the vase and the fox, before he walks away in hope the traveller takes the hint and leaves him alone. From the wide eyes of the merchant he assumes the coins are enough but his luck doesn’t help him beyond that.

The traveller walks right next to him and matches his steps, brows furrowed and staring at Rintarou’s face from the side without any sign of restraint, fully embracing his rude behaviour. Rintarou had intended to walk his way, ignore the man beside him and buy whatever he finds that interests him but the look he now receives irritates him to no end.

“What do you want?” It comes out more tired than angry, probably because Rintarou is tired of whatever this is supposed to be and his voice fades a little in the wind around them. The traveller nearly trips at the abrupt stop but catches himself just before he stumbles to the ground. He tilts his head to the side as if Rintarou just asked a dumb question when the answer jumps around in front of his face or screams into his ear.

“I need to buy somethin’.” Rintarou raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Then go buy something. We’re at a market.” The man has the nerve to roll his eyes and then pokes at Rintarou’s chest with one of his bandaged fingers.

“I need somethin’ from your shop. Not from the market.” Now it’s Rintarou’s turn to roll his eyes and without another look back he starts walking again. “If you read the sign, you’d know that I’m available in an hour. Wait like everyone else would.”

A hand around his wrist pulls Rintarou back before he could take more than two steps forward. When he looks back, the traveller’s eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is pulled down into a frown. “But I need it now. It’s important.”

Of course it’s important. Rintarou would be offended if it was anything but that. Still, what is so important that it can’t wait for another hour?

“And what is this very important-” The traveller holds a piece of paper in his face, fluttering in the wind and close to flying away if not for the traveller’s strong grip. He can identify Shirabu’s neat characters with short but precise instructions as soon as his eyes land on the words written on it.

“A potion against  _ Demon’s pawn _ ?” The red flower comes to mind easily after his grandmother had spent weeks engraving the picture in his head along with the instruction to stay as far away from them as he could. The fiery red petals would look nice on a kitchen table but touching can lead to some unpleasant reactions and when eaten they can even end in death.

“Tsumu- eh my brother fell into a patch of ‘em.” Without noticing, Rintarou had taken the piece of paper from the traveller’s hands as if it could give him any more information from the touch alone. “Did he eat some of them?” He looks up and is met with a frown, but lighter than before. “My brother’s an idiot but not stupid.” Rintarou doesn’t know why but he feels the urge to disagree. He keeps those thoughts to himself.

“Where is your brother?” The traveller looks surprised at Rintarou’s sudden interest and the way he turns around to walk back to his shop. Touching the flower isn’t deadly most of the time, but it can be depending on the intensity of the reaction. The process is uncomfortable all the same. It starts out with a red rash that begins to burn and itch after a few seconds and spreads over the skin if it was touched by the flower or not. If it’s a bad reaction, the burning turns into a lasting pain, intensifying with every minute it holds on.

Rintarou had never seen such a case. Back in the day, when his grandmother still handled most of the injuries and illnesses in the town, before Shirabu and finally Narita joined them and took over most of those things, he only ever heard about it from passing travellers. Now, even though they have two relatively competent doctors in their clinic, brewing potions like these is Rintarou’s responsibility.

“At the clinic. I’m just supposed to get the potion from you.” If it were Narita, the doctor would’ve come to Rintarou himself instead of sending the patient’s brother but it was Shirabu who wrote the note. He’s probably too busy staring at his favourite bard to talk to Rintarou himself.

On his way back, he passes the vendors and the window of the inn, a quick look inside confirms that the difficult guest left and Futakuchi and Ennoshita now have time to be disgustingly in love behind the counter. Holding hands, exchanging soft kisses, looking deep into each other’s eyes. Rintarou would love to throw a stone through the window, even entertains the thought for a while - the shards would glitter in the sunlight, they would finally stop rubbing their relationship into everyone’s face, he would have to pay to get the window repaired - yeah, not worth it.

Terushima stepped outside his shop in the meantime and now waves at Rintarou, a flower sticking out of the pocket of his apron. The petals flutter in the wind and one of them flies into the air, dances around the roof for a few seconds until it becomes a tiny speck of violet against the blue sky.

The wind chime still jingles on Watari’s house. Rintarou nearly stops in his tracks as it mirrors a now familiar tune from silent nights, only interrupted by the faint melody of a childhood that sounds far away and yet painfully close. A feather dancing on a gentle breeze, waves slowly moving back and forth against the shore, sweet yet bitter memories that were and imaginations that could have been. 

He walks past it.

The sign still hangs on the door, the chalk now smudged and faint against the dark background because of the persistent blow of the wind but still readable. The door creaks slightly in its hinges but opens without any problems. It’s strange really, how he didn’t have to call Aone or Watari to fix it.

Belatedly, Rintarou remembers the strong wind around him as he pulls on the handle, somehow forgotten in the time he is outside. He feels himself go through all five stages of grief as he mourns the chaotic order he established in the shop. 

Suddenly, the wind dies down to a gentle breeze around him. He looks up into the air as if it could give him an answer for the sudden change of mind. As if a voice would come down from the sky, telling him exactly why the wind decided to calm down for a moment and spare him from hours of cleaning. In the end he just goes inside without waiting for longer than a few seconds.

He stopped questioning those things a long time ago. Those strange occurrences that startle him for a second before he shrugs and moves on. Kita said a while ago that there’s something magical about him. Rintarou would have been offended - magic to him is mostly questionable, often used to trick unsuspecting victims or just used as an explanation for things people can’t understand - but it’s Kita who said it.

The old man is anything but unreasonable and wouldn’t say things like that without thought behind it. He said it feels like the magic surrounds him wherever he goes, like a breeze in the wind, accompanying him every step he takes. He doesn’t quite see it.

Even though the wind seems to act in his favour, Rintarou closes the door quickly after the traveller stepped inside and, as if waiting for it, the wind starts to pick up again, maybe even stronger than before. It roars around the house, screaming that it only had to take a short break to gather all its strength.

The traveller looks outside the window as trees bend closer to the ground but they’re unaffected in the shop, still filled with the warm air though it feels less humid now and the smell of flowers disappeared over the time he was gone.

Rintarou walks behind the counter without losing another second and lets his hand brush over the plants after letting his bag fall to the ground. They’re still a little damp but dry enough to use so he sorts through them for the ones he needs.

He turns to one of the locked cabinets next to the wide shelf with the potions. When he takes the key out of his pocket, his fingers brush against the smooth stone and he has the urge to take it out and look at it. His hand twitches still in his pocket and for a second he feels like he is unable to pull it out without the stone in his palm. He shakes his head slightly and finally takes out the key to unlock the doors in front of him. When the door stands open it reveals something like an apothecary cabinet just with doors blocking the wooden drawers. They’re spread all over the surface in different forms and sizes, getting bigger the closer they are to the floor and each of them labelled in neat handwriting very unlike Rintarou’s . He skims over the letters until he stops at the third row on the right.

The drawer lands on the counter with a thud and Rintarou can see the traveller taking a step forward, curious eyes roaming over the wood before he comes even closer to take a look inside.

The drawer is filled with flowers and a bright gleaming stone that sits right in the middle, covering the flowers in a bluish glow. The ice blue bloom is formed like a cup surrounding the center and little peaks point upwards in the middle of each petal. The green stems and leaves are covered in purple splotches like bruises covering a human’s arm.

When Rintarou reaches for one, a chill runs down his arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“What’s that?” The traveller’s eyes are full of wonder as he looks at the flower Rintarou pulls out and lays down on the counter. His fingers move close to the petals just far away enough not to touch them. “It’s cold.” 

“ _ Luna’s touch _ . It’s said to emit the cool light of the moon stored within its petals.” From that one flower alone, Rintarou can feel the whole room cool down a little as he puts the box away and locks the cabinet again.

“I didn’t know plants can have magic.” The traveller looks at him now instead of the flower but his hands remain near the blue petals. “They don’t. That’s just nature.” That answer earns him a confused look but Rintarou ignores it. Instead, he starts to mix some of the plants he gathered together in a bowl with some water. Even though he tries to concentrate on his task he can’t help but wonder about one thing.

“Traveller, how exactly did your brother manage to fall into a patch of  _ Demon’s pawn _ ?” He glances at the man who sighs defeatedly after looking at him with an offended expression. “My name’s Miya Osamu.”

“I didn’t ask for your name, I asked for a story.” The traveller- Miya huffs an exasperated breath and leans against the counter, elbows resting on the wood with his back facing Rintarou but his head is turned to the side, still glancing at the flowers from time to time.

“Well, we were running from those bandits...”

One day, he swears to himself time and time again, he will stop taking these stupid missions with his brother. One day, he will finally be free from Atsumu and his urge to offer their help to every struggling human they come across. It’s not even that he wants to make a good impression or anything, he just wants a reason to fight whatever comes in their way. If it’s demonic plants that destroy a small town, a corrupt major who keeps raising the taxes or a group of bandits that stole from an unsuspecting merchant.

Osamu will chain his brother down in some small town and live a peaceful life. But that day is not today. Today he runs away from bandits. 

Bandits, who think they are some random idiots who want to steal their freshly stolen goods. Well, they aren’t entirely wrong. He and Atsumu did break into their campsite and took whatever they were requested to take but stealing and taking something back are entirely different things. And everything would have been fine if Atsumu hadn’t pushed him into a pile of pots and pans.

“This is all yer fault!” Yes, running from bandits isn’t Osamu’s favourite activity, he’d rather sit around a little campfire and prepare some good food - not for Atsumu though, he doesn’t deserve it.

“How is it my fault when ya trip?!” Atsumu’s voice is equally annoyed, he probably imagined this to go down smoothly. Sneak into the camp, look for the stolen items, take the stolen items and return to the merchant they’ve been stolen from without getting caught.

“Ya pushed me!” Osamu reaches out to hit Atsumu’s arm but his brother takes a step away before he can even touch it. Maybe they shouldn’t fight while on the run but it’s not like it’s the first time.

“I didn’t do shit! Ya tripped and now yer tryin’ to blame it on me!” Maybe Osamu did trip while Atsumu was rummaging through a chest on the other side of the room but whose idea was it to steal from bandits? Exactly.

A straight up battle cry stops Osamu from shoving his brother down the hill. When they turn around, seven bulky men and women with weapons ranging from knives to a club as thick as Osamu’s thigh follow them not far behind. Osamu could swear there were only four a moment ago.

He shares a look with Atsumu, the annoyance in his face replaced with a serious expression and with a quick nod they pick up their pace.

The next time Osamu looks back, there are two more following them. Where are they coming from? This is getting out of hand. 

‘This is really getting out of hand,’ Osamu thinks when he feels something graze his cheek accompanied by a gust of air, soon followed by a sharp pain. A knife sinks up to its hilt into the bark of a tree right in front of him like fingers breaking through the surface of a lake.

“Tsumu!” Atsumu only casts a glance at him before he grabs Osamu’s wrist and pulls him to the side, behind a big rock and then further into the forest, away from the path that would’ve brought them right back to the waiting merchant.

Osamu can feel something wet run down the side of his face and when he wipes it away with his hand, blood is smeared across his knuckles and fingers. 

Branches break under their feet and Atsumu’s grip doesn’t falter when he jumps over a fallen tree, believing or knowing Osamu would follow without hesitation.

They end up pressed against another rock, breaths as silent as possible while quiet pants fill the air and ears wide, listening for their persecutors’ footsteps rushing past them. The thunder dies down after a while, shouts coming from further and further away every passing second.

Osamu feels like he can breathe again. He didn’t even realise he stopped until fresh air fills his lungs with a desperate inhale. Atsumu next to him slumps down against the stone, relief washing off him in waves.

“That was a close one.”

“No shit.”

They sit there for a few more minutes, catching their breath and making sure the bandits ran off far enough for it to be safe to leave their hiding spot. They return back to the path and follow it along a steep slope that smooths out after a few seconds of rolling down where the forest continues.

They stay attentive to noises that might sound like footsteps, heavy breathing or knives boring into sturdy bark, eyes roaming the area around them for the glint of steel or the unnatural movement of a leaf.

The forest clears slowly, trees stand further apart and in front of them the path gets lighter as the sun breaks through the branches above them. Only when you step out of a forest do you actually realise how dark it is inside.

Atsumu is back to his chatty self and starts to point out the ‘highlights’ of their trip, though nothing of this could be considered a highlight from Osamu’s point of view. The whole thing was a complete disaster and they can only hope that they got the right thing.

But the universe isn’t done yet. It just has to make Osamu’s day even more complicated and stressful than it already was when Atsumu steps a bit too far to the side and over the edge and in the next moment lands at the bottom of the slope.

Osamu looks down at his brother but his laugh gets stuck in his throat when he recognises the flowers Atsumu lies in.

The stems that stick out of the ground are of a greyish green that almost looks dead against the fresh colour of grass around it. Small flowers cover it from the very tip down to the part where diamond shaped leaves sprout to shield the ground from sunlight. The petals are bright read like a raging fire and little hairs sprout out of the centre of each of the little buds.

_ Demon’s pawn _

Its roots are said to reach deep down to the lands of evil where demons live and wait to spread their darkness around the world above. Through the thin hairs they send the malice pouring out of their bodies to the surface, spreading like a disease when they break at the faintest of touches.

To Osamu, this is complete nonsense, just a dumb tale told by people with too much time on their hands, but it doesn’t change the fact that they are highly poisonous and can lead to death if not treated in time.

“Tsumu, get out of those flowers!” Atsumu looks up at him as Osamu makes his way down the slope and already scratches his arm where it isn’t covered by his shirt. The closer Osamu gets the clearer the red splotches on his brother’s skin become. It’s alarming how they already spread over his arms even though he touched the flowers only seconds ago.

“What’s with ya? It’s just some flowers,” Atsumu says while getting up from the ground with exaggerated effort, “it’s not like they’re poisonous or somethin’.” He brushes dirt from his pants when his eyes land on the red spots on his arms and then looks back up at Osamu.

“They are poisonous, aren’t they.” Osamu wants to hit him with a rock or better a thick branch, just hard enough that it hurts but doesn’t leave him unconscious and for Osamu to carry somewhere safe. 

But this isn’t the time for violence, this is the time to get his brother to the nearest town and a doctor so he doesn’t end up as an only child. Not that he hadn’t entertained the thought before, on a peaceful night after a horrible day, both of them near a cliff. But- and he would rather jump off the cliff himself than let Atsumu know this- he doesn’t want his brother to die.

“We’re goin’ to the next doctor right now, let’s go.” Osamu grabs Atsumu’s arm over his sleeve, careful not to touch the affected parts of his skin. He doesn’t want to find out if it’s contagious. But Atsumu, because why would he be reasonable for once in his life, shakes him off and climbs back up the hill and then walks in the other direction of where Osamu knows the next town is.

“Nah, we’re returnin’ this first.”

“Didn’t you say your brother isn’t stupid?” Rintarou’s eyes are fixed on the bottle in his hand as he checks the potion. It has the colour of lavender and when the sun hits the glass, violet spots dance around on the counter and the floor.

Miya shrugs with his arms now crossed but still leaning against the counter, eyes following something outside that Rintarou can’t see from his position. “He’s still an idiot.” He hums in response and swings the bottle in slow circles until it, in the blink of an eye, changes its colour again to a blue as deep as the ocean.

As soon as it changes, the glass turns cold and little drops of water start to form on the bottle before they roll down over Rintarou’s hands and finally fall down on the counter. Perfect.

“It’s done.” He stretches his hands above his head with a yawn and only then notices Miya’s intense look towards the bottle. Miya’s hand touches the glass slowly, almost as if scared and his eyes widen when he feels the cool radiating of it. It’s kind of funny to Rintarou, who has known those flowers ever since he was old enough to understand the instruction ‘don’t touch it’, but he can imagine the wonder one must feel when witnessing it for the first time. It must be almost magical.

“Can you eat these?”

Or maybe Miya is only thinking about food. Rintarou squints suspiciously but offers an answer anyway. “They aren’t bad for your health if that’s what you mean. At least if you don’t eat too much of it, they can freeze your stomach if you don’t watch out.” Miya hums and his eyes are unfocused as if imagining the first meal he could make with them. Unbelievable.

“Shouldn’t you bring this to your brother?” His head snaps up to look at Rintarou eyes coming back into focus and slowly remembering what he came to Rintarou for.

“Right. How much do ya want for this?” Rintarou can see the goosebumps on Miya’s arm when he takes the bottle fully in his hand. They spread from his hands, littered with little scratches and cuts, over his arms until they vanish under the sleeve of his shirt.

How much? He never thought about it. Those kinds of things don’t happen often. Did they even charge anything for it? His eyes wander through the room in thought until they focus on something a few steps away from the counter. 

That would help.

“Get someone to buy those chairs and we’re even.” His voice sounds bored, nonchalant as he leans forward to rest his head on his hand, elbow propped up on the counter. Surprise washes over Miya’s face and Rintarou can’t really blame him. It’s an unusual request after all.

“I’ll see what I can do.” It takes Miya a few seconds to respond but he sounds almost confident, as if he already has an idea on how to solve the problem. As long as Rintarou can get rid of those chairs and Ginjima’s annoying smirk whenever he comes by it’s fine with him.

Miya nods at him and then turns around to the door but stops at one of the shelves. He stares at something and somehow the scene looks familiar. It hits Rintarou when he remembers the last time the traveller had visited his shop. Standing in this exact same stop, a necklace with a silver fox dangling from the chain in his hands that jingles quietly when he moves it too quickly.

In the next second the door closes and Miya is gone, like a feather blown away by the wind.

Rintarou can’t stop himself, crosses the short distance and picks up the necklace from the shelf. It’s nothing special. A simple fox of silver on an ordinary chain. He can’t understand why this one in particular caught the traveller’s eye for the second time now but who is he to judge.

Back behind the counter he slumps over, head resting on the sturdy wood, imprinting patterns on his forehead. Making potions like that always exhausts him. Maybe it’s the concentration or just the feeling they give off but it makes him sleepy every time.

His bag still sits on the ground next to him and he remembers the fox statue still inside. 

Another fox, huh? 

He sighs as he remembers the market and that he couldn’t look at everything it had to offer. Who knows what treasures he missed out on? Some merchants don’t stay the whole week and he can’t leave every day for a few hours to stroll over the town square. And everything because of that annoying traveller.

Rintarou straightens back up even though he has no reason to. His hand twitches and he watches as it reaches inside his pocket to pull out the amulet. It drops it on the counter while he just watches. The stone still glowing, the lines still dancing. 

But somehow, perhaps it’s just a trick of the light, it glows a little brighter than before.


End file.
